All desires fulfilled, all problems solved

In May 2024, I went on an expedition to Lake Elton. We stayed in a small village that shares the same name as the lake. Stepping out of the house at the edge of the village, one could head straight into the steppe along any of three paths: through neighboring streets, past a kindergarten, or across the cemetery. Taking the last path, you encounter remarkable monuments—difficult to call them crosses or gravestones: wreaths made of iron flowers and leaves crown old graves, reaching toward the sky like living trees. Around this cemetery, for tens of meters, the paths are scattered with fallen iron leaves, resembling autumn trails in a park.

I read Olivia Laing’s book The Lonely City: Adventures in the Art of Being Alone in January. The phrase “paradise for all” in the title immediately caught my attention. Can paradise really be for everyone? The author explores her own garden, the etymology of the word “paradise,” and writers and artists who asked similar questions.

If in English the word paradise comes from Persian and means “a garden within walls,” the Russian word рай (rai) came from Sanskrit, carrying the same meaning. People are willing to undertake any action promising entry into paradise—whether purchasing indulgences in medieval society, joining crusades to other cities and countries, performing heroic deeds, or even breaking rules and commandments that guarantee access to the desired place. Atoning for sins and preparing for a “better life after” can consume the life that exists in the present and is slipping away.

But what does it truly take to reach paradise? Entering another world is a passage through death, a descent to the very bottom, underground. Only by going there can one glimpse a better life—the ultimate horizon of the living’s dreams.